


Homecoming

by Ulalume



Series: Sniper Agent [4]
Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulalume/pseuds/Ulalume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deathcupcake revisits her childhood home with her husband, Vector Hyllus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr: August 30, 2012.
> 
> While I finished this in the car this morning, I was listening to the Conjure One album Extraordinary Ways, on which appears what I call my Cupcake/Vector OTP song. After it ended, I asked my husband what he’d like to hear (on road trips, we trade off albums/mixes on my iPod). He requested Morphine, but let me choose the album. So I chose my favorite Morphine album, The Night.
> 
> I then proceeded to sit in the passenger seat, open mouthed, as the first song, The Night, started. See, long ago, I had decided Cupcake’s true name (Deathcupcake is a codename). I have always loved the symbolism of the chosen name and feel it goes well with my legacy name (Shadeaux). But until this story, I hadn’t mentioned it.
> 
> If you read the fic and listen to the song, you might understand why this felt like the strangest case of subconscious coalescence to me. Obviously, I must have been channeling Mark Sandman. So now I have a second Cupcake/Vector OTP song.

Being a cipher had taught her how to get things done without leaving a trail. It had been surprisingly easy to buy the old farm under an assumed name with an untraceable account.

Deathcupcake and Vector arrived in late afternoon and placed their gear inside the old structure. The farm nestled against the inner curve of the fjord. It was protected from extreme weather but had been uninhabited for too long to be of use yet. Cupcake had warned Vector that they would be camping out, but she had assured him that at this time of year the weather was mild. He was looking forward to the new experience.

Coming home was bittersweet for Cupcake. She had been happy here once. Her family had been isolated but self-sufficient and her parents had been affectionate. The death of her mother and her father’s subsequent downward spiral, however, had turned her comfortable life into a life of loss. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine the life she might have had, had her parents not died. Then she let it go.

Owning her childhood home, though, gave her more joy than she expected. Even though the shellfish lines were tangled, the buildings were in disarray, and flotsam clogged the waters, she could see how it wouldn’t take much to clean up the farm and provide herself and Vector with a private retreat. The smell of the seaweed and weathered wood were comforting, and she drew in the familiar scents like welcoming an old friend.

Vector stood silent, watching her absorb the memories. The worried orange hues in her aura were fading, replaced by the lavender of calm and happiness. He loved how much she radiated, how he could tell what she was feeling just from her colors. He hadn’t always been sure of the meaning of those colors, though. Killiks generally saw and felt electrical impulses, tasted scents, but did not think in colors. Hive memory told him this wasn’t a common occurrence. It had taken time and experience to read the colors accurately, and he had particularly enjoyed learning some of them.

Cupcake’s aura changed to a lavender glow as she gave Vector the tour around the farm, pointing out where she had learned to shoot a gun, where she had learned to hold her breath for long periods of time, diving down to check the shellfish lines, where she had learned to gut and scale fish.

“Skills that seem to have served you well,” he observed.

“I suppose you’re right, dear,” she took his hand in hers.

With sunset approaching, Cupcake led Vector to her favorite part of the farm. In the crook of the fjord, there was a semi-secluded cove. In the middle of the water, one of the rock formations had been shaped to provide a flat surface.

“My father created that for me,” she pointed. “He was a quiet man and liked his solitude. He never understood how my mother noticed him, much less pursued him, because he was always so wrapped up in himself. But he loved her with all his heart.” A sad smile. “Perhaps too much.”

Vector squeezed her hand. “We do not think there is such a thing as too much love.”

Cupcake turned to look at her husband. His gentle smile and deep, black eyes never failed to center her. She touched his cheek and smiled.

“Father recognized I was like him. I needed my space. So he had a crew come in and cut the rock down to give me my own place to contemplate. I spent a lot of time there.”

“Out in the middle of the water.”

“Where I could not be easily disturbed,” she nodded.

“We think we might have liked your father.”

“You would have. He was fascinated by everything. You two would have discussed things long into the night.”

“And your mother?”

Cupcake faced the farm. “Mother was everything. She was the fire on a snowy day. She was light in the darkest night. She was love and comfort. I cried for weeks when she died.”

She felt Vector’s arms encircle her from behind. He placed his lips on her neck, his breath warm and sensual. Cupcake closed her eyes and leaned into him, enjoying this moment, alone with the only person she truly trusted. Trusted and loved.

Vector continued to hold her as the setting sun lit her hair, turning it to flame before dusk fell, sky purples and pinks deepening to blue. He watched Cupcake flicker from lavender to the violet color of her love, the deep purple of desire. He liked these colors on her, the scents that accompanied it.

“Vector. Dance with me.” Cupcake turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He smiled, willing to indulge her. “What shall our song be?”

In answer, Cupcake gave him the briefest of kisses, barely grazing his lips, then began to sing a song she had learned from her mother, one about life and love and the watery graves of lost ones, leading him in the unfamiliar steps. When the song ended, he pulled her to him, holding her against him as he processed this new knowledge of her, the patterns he had seen while she sang. “Lilah,” he whispered her real name in her ear. “We love you.”

“I love you, too, Vector.” She ran her hands up to cup his face and give him a slow, soft kiss, a kiss that promised more. Then she disengaged herself and backed away towards the water, away from him.

“Cupcake?” He questioned.

“Feel like a swim?” She grinned, and slipped out of her boots. The rest of her clothes followed, and he found himself bemused as a naked Cupcake cocked her hip. “Well?”

Vector watched her dive into the deep water, then divested himself of his clothing, following her out to the flattened rock. She was laying on her back looking up at the stars when he emerged from the water, her aura fading back to lavender, water beading and running off her skin to pool around her on the rock. He lay down next to her, his fingers lacing with hers.

“I used to sneak out here at night, when I was supposed to be asleep, and plot how I was going to get off this planet.” She pointed up at the sky. “I never thought I really would, though.”

“How did you get away from here and into Intelligence?” That curious edge in his voice.

She laughed. “I lied. I stole someone else’s identity. Kind of fitting, don’t you think? I couldn’t stay here, not after father killed himself. I wanted to be someone else, if only for a little while. I guess the joke was on me. I get to be everyone else but myself.” She shivered.

Vector pulled her against him, rubbing her arms, then ran his hands down her back, cupping her behind. “We are glad you did what you did. We would not have met you otherwise. We would not have heard your song and asked to follow you.” He kissed her gently, gradually becoming more passionate. “We would not know you.” His voice broke, longing making his voice falter.

His hands continued caressing her, and he smiled as he ran his fingertips along her skin, over her breasts and stomach, watched color bloom wherever he touched. He sighed and bent his head to her neck to inhale her scent, his tongue tasting her skin.

“You’re playing the color game, aren’t you?” she laughed, enjoying the sensations.

“It is our favorite game,” he smiled. “We think we are rather skilled at it.”

Cupcake fit herself closer into Vector’s arms, seeking his lips, saddened that she could not taste him the way he could taste her. She wrapped a leg around his hip, moving one of his hands between her legs and sighing as he lightly teased her before beginning more insistent strokes. “Tell me what you see,” she whispered, her hand working him, feeling him harden. “I want to know how you see all of this.” She continued to stroke until his breath quickened, then pushed him flat on his back and straddled him.

Vector sighed and closed his eyes. He felt every singular moment as she lowered herself, guiding him into her and arching her back, began to move herself against him. He gripped her hips with his fingers, slowing her to match his own movements. He opened his eyes and looked into hers. “We see your aura, where you touch us, sparking with desire.” Their sighs and labored breaths floated into the air. “We hear life all around us,” Vector paused, concentrating on his words between thrusts, “scent its patterns,” he shuddered with the effort to control himself. “We see the universe, each spark arcing into the other,” he panted, “We see you, our center,” words tumbling faster. “We taste your aura, mingled,” a pause, “with ours.”

Vector gazed at the night, the galaxy, and at his wife, his lover, above him.

“We see the universe within you.” Voice strained, Vector came, releasing himself into her with a low groan, fingers flexing into her flesh, then relaxing.

Cupcake leaned down, arms resting on his chest, and kissed him, slowly, gently, stroking his face. “We are not so different, my love.” She lost herself in those inky eyes. “I see the universe in you, too.”


End file.
